


Casually

by dksm41



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Non-Graphic Depiction of Injury, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:39:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dksm41/pseuds/dksm41
Summary: "Hey, Luca.”“Hey, kid...What’s going on?”“Nothing much.”“Why are you calling? Aren’t you headed home?”“Yeah, I should be there soon.”“So...why...?”“Guess I just wanted to tell you some things that I don’t think I could say to you in person.”“Kid, what’s going on?”





	Casually

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 3,466 words
> 
> A/N.: Written based off a tumblr prompt by otpdisaster: “Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.” 
> 
> I had to do it with Street and Luca, I’m sorry. I don’t plan on having this end with character death, though, but it comes super close. Enjoy~!

_“Dear best friend,_

_You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me._

_I love you, and I don’t want to lose you._

_Because my life has been better since the day I found you.”_

_~ Unknown_

 

xxxxxxx

 

He hadn’t intended on going out like this. And he meant that in two ways. Tonight was supposed to be easy. A relaxing movie night with his roommate after a fairly rough week. Time to unwind and destress.

 

Dying was pretty stressful, if James Street had anything to say about it.

 

He didn’t even know the guy, didn’t do anything to provoke him, hadn’t even noticed anything was going on. To be fair, who’d expect violence at the local convenience store? He thought that only happened in TV shows. But he’d been wrong, and he’d paid the price for it. Lying on a cold, hard, concrete sidewalk was pretty uncomfortable. He imagined dying in a cushiony hospital bed, not in the middle of the night and completely alone. He’d been out to buy snacks for him and Luca to munch on during their couch potato marathon.

 

So yeah, he hadn’t intended on going out like this.

 

No one intends on getting shot because the robber freaked out, had second thoughts. Honestly, Street had been walking _towards_ the convenience store; he hadn’t _seen_ anything, hadn’t _done_ anything. Not a single word exited Street’s mouth. But the asshole saw him as he booked it out of the store and fired off a single shot to get rid of any witnesses. A shot that could very well be the end of Street’s life.

 

He started feeling colder, probably because the main thing keeping him warm was pooling around him. Damn, he liked this shirt, too. Original color had been blue. Now it was purple. Purple had never looked great on him. At least it wasn’t yellow. That would be fashion disaster.

 

He should probably call for help. The shooter had been nice enough not to put a bullet in his phone. But what was the point? Why would he rack up hospital bills when he knew he was going to die? The last thing he wanted was anxiety about debt in the afterlife.

 

He would’ve sighed if he wasn’t paranoid about pushing more blood out faster than it already was. Was that even possible? Hell if he knew.

 

It was way too quiet. He wished he had at least somebody here to talk to him. Like Luca. Shit, Luca. He would never get his Doritos. He’d been craving those all week, too. Damn that shooter for putting a damper in Street’s surprise plans. Maybe he should call and apologize. At least then he wouldn’t be as alone. Win-win situation.

 

It was a struggle to pull out his phone. His hands didn’t want to cooperate, felt stiff. His vision blurred; he couldn’t focus on the screen. At least he had an A.I. on his phone.

 

“Siri, call Grandpa.”

 

_“Calling Grandpa.”_

 

The phone rang twice before Luca picked up. _“Hello?_

 

”Hey, Luca.” The response was simple, casual. He wasn’t really feeling much at this point. Where was the panic he was supposed to be feeling?

 

_“Hey, kid...What’s going on?”_ Luca sounded apprehensive. Street guessed he would’ve been, too. After all, Street was only a few blocks away, had only left the house maybe fifteen minutes ago. There was no real reason for him to be calling.

 

“Nothing much.” Because bleeding out on the streets of L.A. was no big deal. It happened all the time. The blood would be gone by this time tomorrow.

 

_“Why are you calling? Aren’t you headed home?”_ He should be, yeah. He didn’t think he’d be getting there anytime soon, though. No point in telling Luca that.

 

“Yeah, I should be there soon.” He wished he could. He had really been looking forward to this night for a while. It had been some time since it was just him and Luca hanging out. And he had never watched _Die Hard_ before. Luca had seemed really excited to finally watch it with him.

 

_“So...why...?”_ Luca’s voice sounded concerned now. Street supposed he wasn’t doing a good job keeping everything light and casual. Then again, he didn’t really have _time_ to keep things light and casual. Maybe if he had called a few minutes before, he would’ve had time. Now? Not so much.

 

“Guess I just wanted to tell you some things that I don’t think I could say to you in person.” It was true. He did. He wouldn’t have any other opportunity to tell him. He had so much to say.

 

_“Kid, what’s going on?”_ Street could hear Luca getting up and moving around. Was that the sound of keys? Luca better not....

 

“Nothing. Just wanted to talk to you.”

 

_“You can talk to me when you come home._ _Come home_ _.”_ The last part was said forcefully, as if Luca thought Street would be able to obey his commands. He probably would have if he could. But he couldn’t, so he just ignored it.

 

“I still have to grab stuff from the store.” He hadn’t even stepped foot in there yet.

 

_“I thought you said you were coming home_.” Was that the sound of their front door opening?

 

“I am. Soon. I just wanted to talk to you first.”

 

_“Kid, where are you?”_

 

“Where do you think I am?”

 

_“I’m coming to find you.”_

 

“Why? I’m fine.”

 

_“No, you’re not. Your words are slurring.”_

 

Were they?

 

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

 

_“Then talk. Keep talking. Talk as long as you want.”_

 

_You’re trying to keep me awake, aren’t you?_ Street smiled softly to himself. If only Luca knew he had closed his eyes two minutes ago.

 

“I wanted to thank you.”

 

_“For?”_

 

“Giving me a home. A bed to sleep on. Forgiving me after what I did. Being a friend. A lot of things, really.”

 

_“You don’t have to thank me for that, Street. You earned that yourself.”_

 

“No, I didn’t. I’ve fucked up a lot. I deserve way less than what I have.”

 

_“Don’t talk like that.”_

 

“Shut up. I’m talking.” He was met with silence. Was it colder now? “I love you, Luca.”

 

Where the hell did that come from?

 

Clearly Luca was taken aback, too, because the other man hesitated for a moment before softly answering, _“I love you, too, kid. Where are you?”_

 

Hmm. Where was he? He didn’t really remember. It felt hard and cold. What he would give for a blanket right about now. Maybe a hot shower. A warm bath with Epsom salts would really seal the deal.

 

“Dunno.”

 

_“Kid, stay with me. Talk to me.”_ Luca was panicking. Why was he panicking? Street was fine. Completely, utterly, totally _fine_.

 

“’m sorry.”

 

_“You don’t have to be.”_

 

“Yes, I do. Should’ve been better.”

 

_“You’re fine, Street. We don’t need to you to be better.”_

 

“I need me to be better.”

 

_“No, you don’t. You’re okay.”_ Why did that feel like it had more than one meaning?

 

“I shouldn’t’ve lied. I should’ve trusted you.”

 

_“We already talked about that, Street. You don’t need to apologize. I understand.”_

 

“Why did you forgive me? You shouldn’t have.”

 

_“Kid, stop. What’s going on?”_

 

“I love you.” He was tired. So tired.

 

_“Wow. Twice in one night? I’m a lucky guy.”_ Luca was trying for humor now, huh? If he didn’t sound so scared, Street might have laughed.

 

“You’re a great friend.”

 

_“Did you just friendzone me? Am I allowed to take offense to that?”_ Street didn’t know. He didn’t know much anymore. He only knew one thing, and that was exhaustion.

 

“‘m tired.”

 

_“Don’t you dare fall asleep!”_ Please stop yelling. Hurts.

 

_“Sorry, kid, but you cannot go to sleep.”_

 

Had he said that out loud?

 

_“Yes, you did.”_

 

That too?

 

_“Kid...seriously.”_ Was Luca hyperventilating?

 

_“I’m getting close to it, Street. Jesus, fuck, where the hell are you?!”_

 

Street didn’t answer, didn’t think. He was tired. So, so tired. Tired and cold. Why wasn’t he home?

 

_“Street, that better not be you on the fucking sidewalk!”_

 

“‘m sorry.”

 

_“Kid!”_

 

Street wanted to say he felt something when he heard Luca’s voice sound so close, but he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Nothing.

 

When Street woke up, he felt nothing. He didn’t feel light or heavy, airy or weighted. He felt nothing. He saw light, though. Blinding light. He heard beeping, too. Consistent, rhythmic beeping. It was the kind of noise that would have been annoying had it not meant that he was _alive._

 

Holy shit, he had _lived_. How?

 

Eyelids heavy, Street seemingly forced his eyes open from being glued shut, only to be met with bright white lights shining in his face. His eyes snapped closed immediately. Taking a tentative breath, Street opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and surveyed his surroundings.

 

Heart monitor to his side. So that was where the beeping was coming from. Oxygen mask on his face. He could breathe just fine. Why was that there? Uncomfortable feeling where it shouldn’t be. Urinary catheter. The bane of his existence. A sleeping Luca next to him. Why was he here?

 

So a hospital. He could work with that. Luca sleeping awkwardly in an less than cozy chair. Mm, less acceptable. Why wasn’t he home in bed? Street told him not to come. The younger male withheld a sigh. Close to falling asleep once more, Street finally felt warmth coming from his right hand. Warmth that did not also accompany his left hand. He looked down.

 

Luca was holding his hand. What the hell? Had he really been that scared? Had Street really been that close? Well, that he wouldn’t deny. Street had thought for sure he was a goner. It was only by some miracle that Luca had found him in time and, apparently, got him help. It wasn’t like Street made it easier for him, anyway. Hindered him, really. He had chosen to talk Luca’s ear off while the other man searched for him.

 

Street’s face burned as he remembered the things he had said to Luca. Things he would have never said to his face, if _ever_. It really brought a whole new meaning to “over my dead body” because Street would have literally done exactly that. But no. Luca had found him, saved him, and cared enough to stay by his side no matter how uncomfortable he looked.

 

Street blinked sluggishly as he looked over at Luca. He wasn’t much up for conversation, but he thought he owed Luca at least that. Street gently squeezed Luca’s hand. It wasn’t much, but it certainly woke the older man up.

 

Luca’s head snapped up, and he straightened in his seat when he saw Street staring at him. The first words that came out of his mouth were,

 

“Thank _fuck_.” Luca collapsed back against his chair, shoulders sagging in relief. He took a deep breath, as if he hadn’t breathed in ages, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again and narrowing them to look at his teammate. “Don’t ever pull that shit again. Do you understand me? Never again.” Luca’s voice cracked, and he started blinking a bit more than normal. Street tried to pretend not to notice.

 

“S-sorry.” Street’s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. It frustrated him, but, with the oxygen mask and the fact that he hadn’t spoken in who knows how long, he couldn’t have expected anything more.

 

“You know, I think you said more than enough ‘sorry’s the other night,” Luca snapped. Street flinched, and Luca sighed. He ran an exhausted hand over his worn face as he tried to regain his composure. “Listen, kid...you scared the shit out of me.”

 

“I didn’t mean to,” Street murmured.

 

Luca scoffed. “What the hell did you _mean_ to do then? You were bleeding out on the _fucking sidewalk_ , Street! And the first thing you decide to say is, ‘Hey, Luca’? Are you kidding me? How about ‘Luca, I was _shot’?!_ ”

 

Street opened his mouth to apologize, caught himself, closed it again.

 

Luca shook his head. “The things you were saying, Street…” Luca paused, giving his teammate an odd yet concerned look. “Do we...Do we need to talk?”

 

Street furrowed his eyebrows. “I think I told you those things at that moment because we _wouldn’t_ be able to talk about it.”

 

“Kid, I think we need to talk about it,” Luca sighed.

 

Street closed his eyes, took as deep of a breath as he could without hurting himself, and opened them again. “Luca, I was bleeding out. I don’t think you should really take any of my words to heart.”

 

Luca hesitated before donning a cheeky grin. “So you don’t love me?”

 

Street flushed and averted his gaze. “Get the hell out of my room.”

 

Luca chuckled next to him. “It’s all good, man. I know what you meant.” He let the words hang in the air, sobering a bit. “You know you don’t have to thank me or apologize, right?”

 

“Luca…” Street groaned. He really didn’t want to talk about what he said. He could already feel the embarrassment creeping up his neck. The last thing he needed to be reminded of was how emotionally vulnerable he was as he bled out on the sidewalk.

 

“I’m serious, Street. If I learned anything from last night, it’s that you have thoughts I don’t want you to die thinking with.” The sincerity and concern plastered on Luca’s face caused Street’s throat to clog up. Fuck, this was _not_ happening.

 

“‘m _fine_ ,” Street responded quietly, voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the heart monitor.

 

Luca still caught the words, and an outraged expression plastered onto his face. “No, you’re _not_ , Street! You have a bullet wound in your stomach! You nearly bled out by the time I found you! You coded _twice_! Nothing about any of that is fine!”

 

Street swallowed thickly, hesitating for a moment. He tightened his grip on Luca’s hand. “I’m _fine_ .” And he meant it. Sure, getting shot _sucked_ , but that wasn’t what he was talking about. He wasn’t talking about being injured or almost dying. He was talking about the person next to him and the fact that Luca _was_ next to him, because he didn’t have to be.

 

It took another minute before Luca finally understood what he meant. The older man’s tense posture sagged into the back of his chair as he tried to take calming deep breaths. Never had Luca felt so inadequate as a friend. He’d thought everything had been settled already, that Street knew he was forgiven and didn’t have to worry anymore. Luca’s heart had been crushed when he’d found out Street had been couch-surfing. He knew what it felt like to be without a home, how important it was to not have to worry about where to sleep at night after a stressful day at work. He wanted Street to know he never had to worry about a home with him.

 

“If you say you’re fine, I won’t fight you,” Luca ultimately sighed. He watched Street relax into the bed at that. “But I do want you to know-” Street looked back up to him with tired eyes - “that you don’t have to doubt if you have a bed to sleep in. We share that house. That house is as much yours as it is mine. Don’t ever thank me for it, and don’t ever think I’ll use it as a punishment for something you did wrong. That house is not a privilege. Get that through your head now.

 

“And the whole forgiving you thing? Don’t thank me for that, either. Everyone makes mistakes, but you actually admitted to it and fixed it. That’s the difference between you and everyone else. You’re growing as a person. The Street I knew when you first arrived would have never admitted he was wrong.” Street gave a small smile, a huff of laughter following. Luca smiled back. “And don’t ever think you _have_ to be better. We all need to improve so we can be the best out there but personally? We love you exactly as you are. We’re not pressuring you to do _anything_. You’ve been improving on your own and you’ve come a long way in the past year. So stop doubting yourself. You’re okay.”

 

Street took a deep breath, the crisp oxygen from the mask and tank filling his lungs as he tried to create a valid response. Eventually, he found that he couldn’t, so he just nodded and squeezed Luca’s hand slightly. The other man did not hesitate to squeeze back.

 

The two sat in silence for a while. Luca had let go of Street’s hand, and now the two partners merely enjoyed each other’s presence. After about a half hour, Street heard the door to his room open. He tensed at the thought of an enemy walking in, but Luca merely patted his leg, and Street calmed. Friendly.

 

Sure enough, Hondo walked in, two bags in his hands. He offered a smile as he placed the bags on the table in the corner of the room.

 

“Hey, Street,” he greeted, pulling a spare chair to Street’s bedside. “Good to see you awake.”

 

“Good to _be_ awake.” Hondo’s comment brought about another thought. “How long have I been out?”

 

“About two days.” Hondo grinned. “And in that time, we’ve brought good news.”

 

Luca developed a puzzled look. Street supposed he didn’t know either.

 

“What’s that?” Luca asked.

 

“We found the asshole who shot you, kid.”

 

Street could’ve sworn his heart stopped. “How?” There had been no cameras, no witnesses except himself. How had they found him?

 

“He was pretty sloppy,” Hondo explained, reaching into one of the bags and pulling out a soda. He tossed the other bag to Luca, who caught it and pulled out two sandwiches with a drink. “Fingerprints at the scene, clipped the store owner who later gave a positive I.D., and his younger brother came forward to tell about how he had shown up one night with a gun and a bag full of cash. Everything fell into place after that. Only thing is, when we went to arrest him, he put up a fight. He was killed.”

 

Luca huffed. “Good riddance.”

 

Street’s mouth went dry. He only had one question. “Why’d he do it?”

 

Hondo pursed his lips. “From what we could tell, just because he could. His brother told us they were financially stable, had great lives growing up, bright futures...but he said his older brother had always been different. He just didn’t think it meant this kind of different.”

 

So that was it then. The shooting, the almost dying, the heart-to-heart talking...all of it was caused because some dimwit decided to rob a convenience store just because he could. It was almost underwhelming. He hadn’t almost died heroically at all. Maybe if he had been shot by some gang member or terrorist, but it was just some privileged kid looking for a thrill. He’d almost _died_ because someone was _bored._ He wasn’t sure if he was angry at the fact, or _terrified_ that this could just as easily happen again at any time or anywhere.

 

Luca hummed. “How ridiculous. It’s disgusting how horrible people have gotten.”

 

Hondo shrugged. “We can only do what we can. All I know is that I won’t be losing any sleep tonight. The guy responsible for hurting one of our teammates is gone, and you are going home in a couple of days.”

 

“Really?” Now that Hondo mentioned it, Street didn’t want to stay in the hospital. He had been blind to it before, but the antiseptic smells and beeping of the heart monitor were really starting to grate on his nerves.

 

“Mm-hmm, but for now, get some rest. You look beat.”

 

He was. His eyes flickered to Luca one last time, and the other gave him a small smile and a wink.

 

“Go to sleep, kid. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

He didn’t have to be told twice. His eyes drifted closed, and, for once in the past few days, Street didn’t feel nothing. He felt warm. Not warm as in hot, but a comforting feeling, the kind that had been described to him by other people but had never once been felt by himself. The kind of warmth that associated with the word “home”. With Luca right beside him, yeah, he felt pretty warm.

 

xxxxxxx

 

_“Don’t wait until it’s too late_

_to tell someone how much you love,_

_how much you care._

_Because when they’re gone,_

_no matter how loud you_

_shout and cry,_

_they won’t hear you anymore.”_

_~ Unknown_


End file.
